


Backseat Confidential

by merycula (thanksillpass)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, alternate universe - cab driver, an AU literally one person wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4965883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanksillpass/pseuds/merycula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If their first exchange was anything to go by, Dorian was going to be the most demanding, pretentious piece of shit he’s ever had the displeasure of driving but, by Maker, he looked hot in that suit."</p><p>In which Bull is a cab driver, and Vivienne forces Dorian into his car on regular basis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backseat Confidential

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clockworkmoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkmoon/gifts).



Not many people believed Bull when he told them he was perfectly fine in the time of peace. Were his people bred and trained specifically for war? Yes. Was his most recent and rather favored profession a mercenary? Sure. Were his men an ill-fitted bunch of outcasts with no social graces whatsoever to speak of? Certainly. But when you could manage to kill a person without breaking a sweat, you could definitely manage to drive a simple car, so that’s what they did, and that’s how Bull ended up having a cab company.

Bull did look rather ridiculous in a car, what with the giant horns, and his generally considerable size, but you couldn’t have the Bull’s Chargers without the Bull. Besides, he was a people’s person, and he enjoyed the job – learned all kinds of things from all sorts of people, which was a great story material for late evenings in the bar. Plus, being a cab driver was definitely preferable to actually running the company, which was something Krem was much better at anyway.

All in all, Bull was rather content with his life at the moment.

He was considerably less content when he got a call from a lady who, with only the tone of her voice, instilled something in him that he wouldn’t exactly call _fear,_  but still made him put his guard up, sit up straight, and call her ma’am. Vivienne requested the biggest car they had, and since Bull was driving that one, he didn’t have much choice but to personally arrive at the address.

“You’re on time, darling, how wonderful. But Dorian is nowhere  _near_  ready, that spoiled dandy. He’ll be late at this rate. I hope you don’t mind waiting a few minutes?”

Bull swallowed. “Uh, no ma’am. Just send him my way when he’s ready.”

“Splendid! Make sure to start…  _charging._  Oh, dear me, I’ve just gotten it. How lovely.”

She didn’t laugh, and Bull couldn’t tell if she was genuinely amused, or just remarkably good at hiding her sarcasm. She politely ended the call, and Bull let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding – he wasn’t used to being made that uncomfortable by people, him being the one usually causing discomfort, but he supposed it took all kinds. He relaxed in the seat as much as he could, and waited.

It took another eleven minutes and twenty seven seconds for his passenger to finally emerge from the building, and Bull instantly noticed two things. Dorian was the very definition of “eye candy” – your typical tall dark and handsome, with impeccable hairdo and perfectly groomed mustache. He was and also a Mage, if his staff was anything to go by, and Bull has seen enough of them back in the day, mostly aimed at him.

“What is that foul stench?!” demanded Dorian as soon as he got into the car. “Did something  _die_  in here?!”

“That would be me,” deadpanned Bull, frowning. “Don’t like a Qunari driver, get out. Simple.”

Dorian growled in frustration. “I don’t have time for this, I am already late! Well? Why are we still in the driveway?”

The bull rolled his eye, deciding that it was beneath him to point out the actual reason why Dorian was late, and stepped on the gas. His passenger was completely silent, determinedly tapping away at his phone, brows scrunched in angry concentration, the fingers of his other hand flexing on his staff nervously, so Bull took the opportunity to have a good look. If their first exchange was anything to go by, Dorian was going to be the most demanding, pretentious piece of shit he’s ever had the displeasure of driving but, by Maker, he looked _hot_  in that suit. If Bull weren’t so good at multitasking, he would definitely get completely lost in imagining how Dorian would look, how he’d sound, when Bull ripped that suit off of him, probably driving them to their untimely death; but he was  _great_  at multitasking.

“That staff is in pretty good shape. Spend much time polishing it?”

The disgusted noise that immediately escaped Dorian wasn’t surprising at all. It wasn’t that Bull didn’t know how corny and lame his lines were, it’s just he didn’t care – it was  _fun._

“Maker, how much longer is this going to take? Can’t you drive any faster? One might expect a brute like you to have little to no consideration for traffic laws.”

“Well, why don’t you fly yourself over there if taking a cab is such a drag, hm, mage boy?”

Dorian scoffed. “You clearly know very little about Tevinters.”

“Know how to kill ‘em.”

Bull just couldn’t stop himself from making the implication. He always thought of himself as a man with unlimited patience, but there was just something about Dorian than pushed all his buttons in all the wrong ways, and he couldn’t help but want to play the role of the mindless beast Dorian obviously saw him as. He wanted to  _intimidate_  him, remind him that things  _could_  get ugly with a Vint and a Qunari in a small, confined space.

“Yes, I imagine you do,” said Dorian evenly, a little sadly, and cleared his throat. “Which brings me to the first issue I neglected to address immediately.” Dorian bit his lip and Bull only grunted to indicate he was listening. “I do not have any issues with Qunari. I left my country for a reason. Several, actually. In any case, I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings.”

Bull let out a relieved chuckle, a bit surprised he even felt relief in the first place. Then he laughed out loud, because for someone who supposedly didn’t care about the centuries-long conflict between their people, Dorian sure liked to voice his less than flattering opinions on Qunari, and it suddenly seemed like a very endearing character trait, to push and test the limits like that.

“All’s good with me, big guy. Unless you’re on your way to burn down a dormitory full of kids?”

Dorian blinked slowly and then chuckled lightly. “No, not today.”

They were silent again for a moment, with Dorian casually going back to trying to set his phone aflame with the intensity of his gaze alone, and Bull to watching him in the mirror. Ever so often he glanced at the beauty mark under his right eye, at the furrow of his perfectly shaped eyebrows, his white teeth occasionally biting on his soft lips, the hard set of his jaw, the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed nervously.

By the time his eye wandered down to the suit that Dorian filled out oh-so-deliciously, Bull had to shift in his seat to adjust, and solemnly swore to himself to watch only the road from now on. Dorian must have noticed his squirming, because he put down his phone and leaned in slightly, scowling adorably in confusion.

“I must say I’m rather curious. How do you even… fit in there?”

Bull considered his answer. He couldn’t say it was a magic cab, because Dalish was  _not_  a mage, so there was no one who could have had enchanted it.

“I’m nimble.”

“I find that very hard to believe,” said Dorian slowly, eyeing as much of Bull’s bulk as he could from the backseat.

Bull chuckled, leering at him in the rearview mirror. “I’m more than happy to prove you wrong if you’re free tonight…”

Dorian spluttered and flushed, his eyes widening in sheer horror, and Bull would have taken offence to that, but he suspected it was more of an issue of being from Tevinter, where no one would know a good fuck if it hit them with a brick. Besides, what was the point of getting prissy when it was so fun to rile Dorian up like that. Not to mention that they finally reached their destination, and it would be a crying shame to end their journey with a fight.

Dorian made a show of leaving the money on the backseat before he scrambled out of the car, huffing in aggravation, and slammed the door behind himself. Bull rolled down the window and grinned, taking the last chance to ogle that fine body in that goddamned suit. Dorian narrowed his eyes at him and lifted his chin in defiance, as if he wasn’t sporting an embarrassing blush.

“You are positively the most insufferable man I have ever met, and I hope to never see you again,” he announced as he turned around and stormed off.

Bull smirked, unabashedly staring at the angry sway of his hips, confirming his suspicion that Dorian indeed had the sweetest ass he’s ever seen. Ah, Dorian… Bull sure loved to watch him go but, to be completely honest, he also kind of loved to see him leave.

It would be an understatement to say that he was surprised to get another call from Vivienne a few days later. When Bull asked her if she was absolutely sure she wasn’t making a huge mistake, she was terrifyingly delighted to inform him she never made any, and she did not care about Dorian’s opinion on the subject, or any other, for that matter. Which at least answered the question whether he told Vivienne about his traumatic experience with Bull.

Dorian got in the car with a cute pout that made him look like a inconsolable child, but the suit he was wearing quickly erased that image from Bull’s mind. And he smelled so  _good_  that Bull had to at least entertain the possibility of getting into a road accident if he didn’t get his shit together, and fast. The best option seemed to be to bring the worst out in Dorian, namely get him talking.

“Your assistant doesn’t seem to like you very much,” he offered with a lopsided grin.

“Vivienne doesn’t like  _anyone._  Probably because everyone thinks she’s my assistant.”

“She’s not?”

“She’s actually the company’s PR convinced I’m incapable of doing anything myself without bringing the world to its ruin. As the only logical solution, she does everything  _for_  me.”

“So… like an assistant.”

Dorian sighed heavily. “Drive, please.”

Bull grinned, stepping on the gas, and laughed when Dorian demanded he stopped looking so smug. They squabbled almost all the way, occasionally trying at a civilized conversation, and mostly succeeding. Apparently, without the pressure of being late to some important business meeting, Dorian was a sweet guy, if what you considered sweet was, for example, lemons. And when things were starting to get awkward again, Bull decided to save the day with his admittedly horrible flirting – he’d take blushing, fuming Dorian over strained small talk every time.

Because there was a next time. And a next time, and a time after that. Vivienne seemed to be very satisfied with his service against, undoubtedly, Dorian’s advice, so she called for him quite regularly. The Chargers loved the nights after those days, irrationally excited to listen to him complain at length about some spoiled rich mage, exchanging knowing smirks and glances; Bull refused to get suspicious about those.

“Can’t you just hire a driver?” he asked when Dorian greeted him grumpily on one particularly early morning.

Dorian mumbled something under his breath that even his trained ears couldn’t pick up. When Bull simply stared at him in the rearview mirror with utter lack of understanding, Dorian sighed and crossed his arms on his chest, an angry blush visible on his perfect cheekbones.

“Vivienne won’t let me. The last driver I hired tried to kidnap me.”

Bull would have laughed until the car shook along with him if he weren’t so distracted by that blush; it did funny things to his gut. Lots of things about Dorian did that, which only half-made sense, because while Bull wasn’t above admitting he would fuck the guy in a heartbeat at least three times in a row, he wasn’t masochistic enough to stand the rest of the package. Who would want to listen to that velvety voice incessantly whine about his footsies freezing in the Southern cold every waking minute? Certainly not Bull.

“Are you saying she ran a background check on me?” he asked instead.

If she had, there was no way Vivienne was unaware of the Charger’s previous…  _occupation_. Did she really care so little for Dorian that she would deliberately leave him in the hands of a former mercenary, and a Qunari one too, considering his evident record of attracting trouble? Or was Bull’s pay so generous because he was actually more of a bodyguard than a simple cab driver?

Dorian smirked, his embarrassment already forgotten. “Oh, she most definitely has. She must have established you are either too indifferent or too stupid to kill me.”

“Couldn’t she figure out I’m just one of the good guys?” asked Bull lightly, ignoring the insult.

Dorian hummed, putting a finger to his chin. “I am not entirely certain she is even capable of seeing the good in others, if I’m being perfectly honest.”

Bull shook his head in disbelief, laughing. When their eyes met in the rearview mirror, Dorian was smiling, a small private curl to the corner of his lips, and it shocked Bull how much he wanted to keep putting it there. 

He didn’t get it.

Bull was friendly with lots of people, sure, but he didn’t have many  _friends,_ people he cared about, and wanted to protect. He had his boys, and his old boss, and an Elven girl who sometimes slept in his garage and might or might not be a petty thief, and that was about it. Dorian was just a snarky Vint who looked hot in a suit, and Bull had no business caring about him.

Not to say that their relationship didn’t slowly warm up over months. Under all the bluster, caustic remarks and dry jokes bordering on insults, Dorian seemed genuinely interested in Bull’s life, and he’s never denied the endless stories he had to anyone before; there was no reason to start. Dorian wasn’t as keen on sharing, but his jabs have long lost their edge, he laughed more, and more freely, his true self peeking out from behind his carefully crafted mask. Bull was good at puzzles, too, so he filled the blanks on his own.

Dorian was passionate about his work, even if he hated the bureaucracy of it. He wanted to change the world, and he wasn’t naïve about it, but still determined; if someone like Vivienne stuck around, he must have stood at least a small chance. He didn’t hate Tevinter, just like Bull never learned to hate the Qun, but he was critical of it, realistic about its flaws. He definitely had some daddy issues, not to mention horrible reservations about public display of affection.

Maybe Bull just really fucking liked lemons.

“I must be getting used to the smell,” offered Dorian one day in lieu of greeting. “How marvelous that my sense of smell has finally gone numb by sheer exposure.”

“Maybe I washed just for you,” teased Bull, with an obnoxious waggle of his eyebrows.

Dorian snorted in amusement. “You’re not getting an extra tip for that.”

Bull’s wide grin instantly fell when Vivienne suddenly joined Dorian on the backseat. It was the first time they’ve met, and she was certainly a stunning woman, but she still made Bull uncomfortable, now more than ever that he saw her with a staff. She eyed him from behind her designer sunglasses, letting out a pleased hum.

“Oh my, you certainly weren’t exaggerating at all, darling,” she said to Dorian as they started driving. “ _I_  would let him conquer  _me,_  if you won’t, Dorian, dear. Although we would need to apply some changes in the clothing department…”

Dorian groaned softly, sinking deeper in the backseat, and Bull somehow didn’t feel like laughing. That was certainly going to be an awkward ride – if not for Bull, who’s never had much shame to begin with, then definitely for Dorian. Bull has heard him flirt over the phone with practically everyone except Vivienne but that, ironically, was with people he  _didn’t_  actually find attractive, so being teased like that, by Vivienne of all people, was only going to be embarrassing.

Bull only had one eye but he wasn’t  _blind._ All his hard work in form of lame innuendos and well-timed flexes finally paid off – even if he was only ever offered disgusted groans in return, it was pretty obvious that Dorian’s been thinking lately about “riding the Bull.” He would really hate for Vivienne to ruin all that progress.

“Well, ma’am, I would have to be crazy to say no to that,” he said with a practiced chuckle.

Dorian scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “By all means, pretend I’m not even here. That should be interesting, the beauty and the beast.”

“Ha!” shouted Bull. “Now Dorian! Just because you’re jealous, you shouldn’t insult the lady like that!”

Dorian positively squawked in indignation, causing Bull to cackle jovially, and Vivienne actually  _giggled._ It only made Bull laugh harder, but Dorian was looking at her as if he’s seen a fear demon, gaping incredulously and sporadically glancing at Bull, as if to make sure he was seeing it too.

“You two are simply delightful, darlings!” said Vivienne, fanning herself. “The Iron Bull, tell me, dear. How do you fancy a small get-together tomorrow evening? An acquaintance of ours, a writer of some esteem, is throwing a party for a few friends. I am sadly unable to attend myself, and Dorian always gets so dreadfully bored by himself. I realize it is a short notice, of course, so if you already have plans we can always ask someone else to accompany him. Cole, perhaps.”

Bull hummed, eying Dorian in the rearview mirror; he looked like he  _really_  didn’t want to go with Cole, whoever he was. Bull didn’t mind – it wasn’t like the Chargers couldn’t drink themselves to a stupor without his help, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to seeing Dorian outside of the usual setting, but it was entirely up to Dorian.

“You want me to come, big guy?” he asked softly, for once not making a point of emphasizing the double meaning.

Dorian opened his mouth, without a doubt to protest, probably on instinct, but he stopped himself, biting his lips and dropping his eyes on his knees. Being patient around him came easier now, so Bull waited, watching Dorian struggle internally until the very moment they arrived at the address. Bull flexed his hands on the wheel, still waiting. Eventually, Dorian sighed and shrugged his shoulders, schooling his features into an indifferent mask again.

“Not unless you own a different outfit than this horrid Hawaiian shirt and a haphazardly-sewn circus tent you call trousers.”

Bull chuckled as Vivienne scolded Dorian for his atrocious lack of manners, and silently watched them get out of the car. Vivienne slipped him a card with the time and place along with the money, and blew him a kiss before following Dorian into the building.

Bull didn’t think of it as a date. He didn’t  _do_  dates, first of all, perfectly happy with simple one night stands with as many redheads as possible. Romance was a foreign concept to him, and being Dorian’s plus one was nothing more than a favor for a friend. As soon as he caught himself thinking of Dorian as a _friend,_  however, he decided to call it an extension of his services. That he was offering for free. Because Dorian asked him to.

Groaning, he rubbed the back of his neck before knocking on the door that instantly flew open, revealing a sickly-looking boy wearing a very odd hat.

“The Iron Bull!” he exclaimed. “Welcome! Dorian isn’t ready yet.”

Bull shook his head fondly. “Of course he isn’t. I’ll… wait in the car.”

“No!” protested the boy. “I have so many questions! Please, come in and sit down!”

Bull frowned but let the boy lead him inside the apartment. It was big enough for Bull to feel comfortable there, and a lot more homey than he expected of Dorian.

“Nervous, apprehensive, confused, what am I even doing here?”

Bull startled at the sound of his own thoughts said out loud.

“Cole, who are you talking to?!” called Dorian, suddenly appearing behind them. “Bull! I… wasn’t expecting you to- I mean-”

Bull had to swallow as he took in the sight of him. Dorian always looked amazing in a suit, sexy and elegant, but seeing him in more casual clothes made Bull’s mouth go dry. The lust flaring up in his gut must have been showing on his face, because Dorian shuddered under his gaze, blushing slightly. He didn’t miss the way Dorian licked his lips reflexively after giving Bull a seemingly casual once-over. This was  _such_  a horrible idea.

“I see you do own more socially acceptable clothes,” said Dorian, clearing his throat. “Wonderful. Well, ready when you are.”

Bull only grunted, following Dorian outside, trying not to salivate too much at the sight presented before him; he didn’t get to look at that ass often enough. His fingers itched to grab Dorian by the hips and pull them flush together, but that wasn’t how he did things – people came to  _him,_  not the other way round. He needed a distraction, and it came in form of Dorian’s surprised huff when he saw Bull’s pick-up track instead of the cab. Bull shrugged in response to his questioning glance, unsure what to say, and got into the car; if Dorian was actually expecting to pay Bull to drive them there, that was going to be an awkward date.

Night. An awkward  _night._

“So that was Cole, huh?” he asked when Dorian joined him on the passenger seat. “Ashamed to take him out in public because of the hat?”

Dorian chuckled. “Cole is a good kid, but he always asks too many questions. ”

“Yeah, he mentioned he had some. Didn’t get the chance to ask them though. Got distracted by my thoughts, it seems.”

“Oh Maker,” groaned Dorian, hiding his face in his hands. “I should really fire him, but he’d die out there without me…”

Bull laughed heartily, patting Dorian’s knee, and started to drive. “That’s rich coming from you! Is he really that hopeless?”

“More like he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Bull was expecting Dorian to snark back at him and turn it into a joke, not smile softly and say something so relatable; Dorian really never ceased to surprise him. He hummed, determinedly looking ahead.

“Careful there Dorian,” he muttered darkly. “What will you do if this sensitive information falls into the wrong hands?”

“And what sensitive information that might be, pray tell.”

Bull smirked. “That you’re actually a good guy.”

It wasn’t easy to render Dorian speechless. When Bull cast a side glance at him Dorian was just watching him, his features impassive, except for a slight, surprised lift to his brows. When Bull turned his head and smiled at him, it didn’t take Dorian long to return it.

“Well, I certainly don’t trust  _you_  to have the slightest notion of what discretion is, so I suppose I will just have to kill you. Just in case.”

A few months ago Bull wouldn’t have taken it as a joke. He might have _pretended_ he did, but he would actually be planning how to kill Dorian first (he imagined how to kill everyone he met, not just Tevinter mages – it was a reflex). Now, as he parked his car in front of the house where the party was taking place, he just turned to Dorian with a warm smile and slowly, deliberately, with a slight tilt of his head, closed his eye for the briefest moment.

“Just in case,” he repeated lightly.

Dorian gaped in disbelief for a while. “Was that supposed to be a  _wink?_  Did you just try to  _wink_  at me, Bull? You are utterly ridiculous! Why do you always have to ruin everything?!”

“What?” whined Bull mockingly. “I didn’t realize we were having a moment!”

He laughed as Dorian scrambled out of the car, cursing in Tevinter under his breath. Bull stayed inside a while longer, just to indulge in watching Dorian walk away again, this time with the permission to follow. It was… nice. The way Dorian looked over his shoulder, glancing at him from under his eyelashes was even nicer.

“Are you coming or not, you big oaf?” he asked without a real bite.

“Depends on where the night takes us, big guy,” Bull teased as he got out of the car, waggling his eyebrows even though Dorian wasn’t looking.

Dorian groaned like a very angry dying animal, and entered the house without waiting for him. Bull laughed as he followed, and the boisterous sound must have attracted the attention of other guests, because everyone was currently staring at them, exchanging hushed comments - Bull would bet no one there has seen many Qunari  _or_  Vints, and certainly not together. Dorian’s chin was lifted proudly as he defiantly took Bull’s hand and led them across the hall straight to the punch.

No one seemed to be in a particularly festive mood – just a bunch of hipsters listening to shitty music and talking books or some shit. No one was also particularly keen on talking to them either, a big mindless Qunari and a scary evil Tevinter, so after a few minutes of absentmindedly scanning the room, Bull finally shrugged and unceremoniously sat down in an armchair, patting his knee with a grin, motioning for Dorian to sit on it. Dorian rolled his eyes and opted for the armrest, pointedly eyeing Bull’s lap with disgust, but he clinked his glass against Bull’s nonetheless, sighing heavily.

“Can’t say I see why you’d be bored on your own,” said Bull, refilling their glasses already.

Dorian scoffed in distaste. “I’ve absolutely no idea why Vivienne makes me go to these things.”

“I have no idea why Cassandra makes me  _throw_  them.”

Bull craned his neck back to look at the dwarf who suddenly appeared behind Dorian, obviously hiding, and silently offered them a bottle of something clearly stronger than the punch. Dorian sighed in resignation, like he’s had this conversation before, but he accepted the bottle. He took a swing, cringing at the burn in his lungs the liquid must have caused before passing it to Bull. Whatever it was, it was strong enough for Bull to feel a bit tingly, so people half his size wouldn’t need much of it to have a very good time.

“She’s your publisher, Varric,” croaked Dorian. “She does everything to keep the public interested in you.”

“She’s also my  _wife,_ ” protested Varric avidly. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Dorian shook his head in amusement, as Bull passed the bottle back to Varric. “Oh, my hairy little friend, everyone knows Cassandra would have married your books instead of you if it were only possible.”

“Look at you, Sparkler!” boomed Varric, cackling. “Suddenly all smug and unsympathetic just because you’re in a happy relationship unlike the rest of us miserable peasants! May I remind you that while Cassandra and I don’t like each other very much, we are certainly deeply in love, so get off your high horse. Though I must say, I’m dying to hear all about  _your_  story. It must be incredibly inspirational: two worlds tearing them apart, Tevinter and Qunari, with only love to keep them together.”

Varric took a generous swing out of the bottle and grinned triumphantly, but his face instantly fell when he noticed how Bull and Dorian were both gaping at him in utter horror.

“Passion?” he tried, cringing. “Seriously? You’re not even the tiniest bit involved? Damn, I must be losing my touch. You haven’t even thought about it fleetingly? Come on, Tiny, Dorian’s a decent-looking guy, not even once?”

“ _I’m_  Tiny?” managed Bull finally, scratching his head in confusion.

“I’m  _decent-looking?”_  demanded Dorian immediately, tearing the bottle out of Varric’s hands. “I am positively  _dashing,_  at the very least, I’ll have you know. Now that we’ve finally established there is nothing between us, you’d better run back to Cassandra, because Bull here has a penchant for redheads and it’s exceptionally difficult to tell when he’s winking at you. Off you go, dwarf, and leave the bottle.”

Bull played along and waggled his eyebrows at Varric, who laughed good-naturedly, patting Dorian’s shoulder, but still wandered off looking for his wife. With a heavy sigh, Dorian slumped against the chair, and Bull found himself shifting to make more room for him. His eyes closed, Dorian smiled softly, rewarding Bull’s consideration by putting the bottle in his hands after taking another swing.

“Well, that wasn’t mortifying in the slightest,” he muttered, casting an uncertain glance at Bull.

Bull smirked in response. “What can I say, the guy saw right through me. Though love does sound a bit soft. Passion was much better.”

“Oh, please,” teased Dorian, rolling his eyes. “As if you wouldn’t be all for starlight and gentle blushes if I asked…”

“Careful, Dorian,” warned Bull, growling deep in his throat. “I might take you up on that.”

Dorian hummed, casually sliding into Bull’s lap. “You keep telling me to be careful around you… What if I don’t want to?”

Bull honestly considered it a miracle that he didn’t get instantly hard right there and then. Dorian was warm against his side, his thigh solid under Bull’s hand, and he smelled  _divine,_  licking his lips as he looked up at Bull from under his eyelashes. The fingers of his left hand danced absently on Bull’s chest, while the other hand reached up to rub lightly at his horn.

“Maker, have mercy,” he grunted, making Dorian chuckle and shift in his lap. “So much for Varric losing his touch, huh?”

“I cannot confirm nor deny it, as I am very drunk,” said Dorian lightly, planting both his hands on Bull’s shoulders to get off the chair completely, staggering slightly. “What I  _can_ confirm is that I hate this so-called party.”

Bull swallowed, reveling in the sweet frustration that sang in his veins when Dorian put distance between them. He considered offering to take him somewhere else where they could have some real fun, but he reminded himself again that he was never the one to push, and certainly not people like Dorian, who did everything at their own pace in their own time.

“Want me to call the boys? Grim alone could bring this house down, and he doesn’t even talk.”

The grin that split Dorian’s face was absolutely brilliant. “Now, Bull, whoever said you never had any bright ideas in that big thick head of yours.”

“That would be you, mage boy,” said Bull with a chuckle and reached for his phone to text Krem. “Wanna spike the punch with what we have until the Chargers arrive with more supplies?”

Dorian gasped, swooning theatrically. “And they say that romance is dead!”

The spiked punch weeded out the weak, so by the time the Chargers and Sera came, the slightly less stuck-up of the present company were quite eager to _really_  party. A woman who he assumed must have been Cassandra was protesting at first, but eventually warmed up to the idea, with Varric’s invaluable help, and let everyone have their long-deserved good time. Bull definitely was having fun even  _before_  Dorian and Sera started dancing on one of tables.

It only got better after that.

When he woke up in his car outside the house the next day, for a moment he feared that he couldn’t remember anything past the moment Dorian jumped off the table and kissed Bull stupid. But it all gradually came back to him, putting a ridiculously goofy grin on his lips.  _Three_  times. Three fucking glorious times they fucked before…  _Right._  Before Dorian got out of poor Varric’s bed on unsteady legs, got messily dressed and left, just like that, leaving behind only his underwear that probably was currently scarring unfortunate Cassandra.

Never before has Bull had issues with being used like that, but he had to admit _that_  stung like a bitch. Still, far be it from Bull wanting to impose or, Maker forbid,  _pine._  They’ve had their fun, no one got hurt, possibly excluding Varric and Cassandra, so everything was good in Bull’s book. He definitely wasn’t sulking, nor brooding, regardless of what the Chargers were implying, and his heart absolutely didn’t skip a beat when Vivienne ordered a cab to Dorian’s address a few days later.

Waiting for Dorian outside the car was a coincidence as well.

To his credit, Dorian didn’t trip over his feet when he saw Bull, but the blush on his cheeks was pretty telling, and Bull felt better already. The way he faltered in his steps when Bull’s arms flexed as he crossed them on his chest helped too. Humming happily when Dorian approached him, Bull leaned in slightly to leer at him with a gleeful grin.

“So Dorian, about that night…”

Dorian swallowed. “Ah. You mean that ill-considered night after drinking.”

“Uh-uh.”

“That, of course, will never happen again.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Unless, of course, it happens again.”

“Uh-uh.”

Bull watched Dorian sway closer to him with every word, eyes half-lidded and occasionally dropping to Bull’s lips until they just  _stayed_  there, dark and hungry, making Bull growl and reach for Dorian to pull him into a kiss. It was hot as hell, sure, especially the noises Dorian was making into his mouth as he gripped Bull’s biceps, but it also tugged at his chest in the most wonderfully unfamiliar ways. Dorian was panting when they pulled apart, still clutching at Bull’s arms and looking positively dazed for a long moment before composing himself.

“Krem says I can’t let you pay for the cab with your body,” muttered Bull, smiling.

Dorian immediately stepped back, sighing dramatically. “Well then, the entire ruse for nothing. Good day to you, sir.”

Bull grabbed him by the hips before he could turn around, pulling him close again, and they both laughed, a silly and carefree sound. Bull cupped Dorian’s cheek, his heart thudding loudly in his chest when he felt Dorian press into his hand, and simply kissed him again.


End file.
